


Break My Typical Rules

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Deacy has to hear about it, Drinking, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Happy Ending, House Party, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Jim has it bad, M/M, Mutual Pining, Party, Past Abuse, Paul Prenter Being an Asshole, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 21:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: The only reason Jim agreed to come to this damn party was because he wanted to (in Deacy's words) "man up" and finally ask Freddie out. It's easier said than done.In which Jim is Gomez Addams, and Freddie is a star in more ways than one.OR: Jim's pining. Freddie's pining. Jim's trying to work up the nerve to do something about it, and a costume party seems like a good place to do it.





	Break My Typical Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Not writing A/B/O? I'm surprised too.
> 
> This wasn't exactly planned, so apologies if it seems rushed or choppy. I'm still stuck in bed sick, so this was my distraction 😂 Yes I was listening to "Sucker" on repeat.

Jim had never been one for big parties, but as soon as Freddie announced he was going, Jim immediately accepted Tim’s invitation.

That may have been a mistake. Tim’s parties were well known all across campus, and it wasn’t exactly a small college. Tim’s parties were huge, loud and crazy. Drinks and drugs galore. The sort of shit-show that Jim tended to _ avoid. _And if he was honest, the idea of dressing up made him feel a bit daft.

On the other hand..._ Freddie. _Freddie Bulsara with his big brown eyes and chiming laugh; Freddie with his excited hand-gestures and sweet smile. Jim was a goner, honestly, and he hadn’t expected it. 

How they met was admittedly a bit convoluted. Jim shared some classes with Joe, who knew Phoebe, who knew Deacy, who introduced Jim to the group as a whole. He hadn’t expected to click with Deacy; that guy had a way of looking at you as if he was reading your mind. He had immediately struck Jim as the mysterious type, though he was quickly proven wrong. Deacy was just a quiet guy who preferred to observe, rather like Jim himself. And Deacy, funnily enough, had immediately taken to Jim.

The poor guy had no idea what he was unleashing by introducing Jim to his friends.

Roger Taylor _ was _intimidating; he was loud, he was cocky, he was fiercely protective of his friends. He’d switched from dentistry to biology, so for all his flirtatious, care-free attitude, he was scarily smart.

Then there was Brian May, who was just straight up scarily smart, right from the off. He was studying _ astrophysics _of all things, and Jim honestly couldn’t keep up with him. He was clearly passionate about his studies, which Jim admired, but that didn’t make it any easier to understand. 

And finally, Freddie Bulsara.

He’d turned up late to their first meeting; he ran in, ten minutes late, still splattered in paint from class. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun, there was a streak of gold paint across his cheek and some red and purple on his hands. His grey t-shirt was a mess, the same with his leggings, yet that fur coat looked ridiculously expensive. 

“Sorry I’m late, darlings!” he said happily, sitting next to Roger. He smiled at Jim, one hand coming up to hide his mouth. “Hello, I’m Freddie Bulsara, Deacy’s friend.”

Jim hadn’t been immediately bowled over. He thought Freddie was _ cute, _ sure, but that was about it. It wasn’t until Jim really got to _ know _him that he became smitten. He saw how Freddie fussed over his friends, he heard him passionately defend animals rights; he smiled as Freddie shoved his phone in Jim’s face, showing him a million photos of his cats. 

And then, a few weeks later, he was invited to one of _ Queen’s _shows.

“You should come,” Phoebe said brightly. “They’re fantastic.”

Despite that, Jim hadn’t expected much. He’d sat with the rest of their friends, laughing as Veronica imitated one of her bossier professors, and he was surprised by the cheers when _ Queen _took to the tiny stage. 

Freddie bowled him over. Because Freddie off stage was shy, and sweet. He giggled over the silliest things, he was such a _ mother _sometimes, fuss-fuss-fussing over the smallest of details. 

But Freddie on stage? He was a little wild thing, twisting and bending in ways Jim could never hope to accomplish. His leather pants clung to him, his purple tank-top kept slipping off his shoulders, and Jim couldn’t tear his eyes away from Freddie’s swaying hips.

It was his voice, though, that did Jim in. He’d never heard Freddie sing before, and he was kicking himself for nearly going home after class, instead of accompanying his friends to the pub, because he could have _ missed this. _ And suddenly, he couldn’t imagine _ not _having this.

How could someone sing like that? How could one tiny young man enchant an entire room? How could Freddie, _ Freddie _of all people, have an entire pub eating out of the palm of his little hand? 

(He may have blushed during _ Get Down, Make Love. _Sue him.)

“How was that, darling?” Freddie asked after. He was flushed and breathless, nearly toppling into Jim’s lap as he hauled himself onto the nearest stool.

“That was- hell, that was…” Jim shook his head. His laugh was incredulous, still struggling to wrap his head around it. “That was fucking _ amazing, _Freddie.” He smiled down at him. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And Freddie, swinging his legs and sipping his drink, only said “You didn’t ask, Jim.”

He suddenly really liked the sound of his name on Freddie’s lips.

That was a year ago. He’d be pining ever since.

  
  
  
  


A year was more than enough pining. He’d just have to take a chance and ask Freddie out. That was what he kept telling himself anyway. He never quite managed to work up the nerve. Because how could Jim, plain old Jim Hutton, ask out someone like Freddie Bulsara? 

“Just do it,” Deacy said. “Put you _ both _out of your misery.”

“What?”

“He fancies you, you idiot.” They were in Jim’s room and Deacy had stolen the bed, lounging against the headboard. “But he thinks you don’t like him.”

Jim immediately went red; for a split second there was a sense of overwhelming giddy joy, of smug triumph, but then reality hit. “Freddie doesn’t fancy me, John.”

“Trust me,” Deacy said, rolling his eyes. “He does.”

“Well then why doesn’t he say something?” _ Logic! Take that, Deacon. _

“Didn’t you hear me? He thinks you don’t like him. You clam up whenever he gets anywhere near you. Remember that time he put his leg over his head and you literally _ ran from the room? _You tense up whenever he touches you, you get huffy when-”

“I get it, Deacs.” Jim slouched in his seat, feeling suddenly very small and very stupid. “He...He thinks I don’t like him _ at all? _ ” Christ, had he made Freddie think that Jim _ hated _him? He could have slapped himself.

“Well he at least thinks you’ll turn him down flat if he asks you out,” Deacy said, shrugging. “So maybe, I dunno...Prove him wrong?”

He wanted to. He desperately wanted to. The idea filled him with utter terror, but he wanted to ask Freddie out _ so badly. _

“You really think he’ll say yes?” Jim asked hesitantly.

“Jim.” Deacy was giving him that _ look, _ that side-ways squint that screamed _ You’re An Idiot. _“I know he will. You’ve agreed to this party, and I’m not letting you back out. You’re going to ask Freddie out, and I won’t have to listen to you both pining anymore. Now let’s go see Mary about finding you a costume.”

  
  
  
  


It was generally agreed in the group that if you had a fashion crisis, you should go to Freddie or Mary, who were both studying fashion and art. 

And Jim had to hand it to Mary, she knew what she was doing. He still felt like a bit of a berk dressed like Gomez Addams, but he knew it could have been much worse. She’d even found him a cane.

Mary herself was going as Luna Lovegood; she twirled around in her Ravenclaw robes, and proudly showed them her Spectrespecs, and the radish-shaped earrings she’d made herself.

“You’ll be fine,” she told Jim as they arrived at Jim’s house. “Try not to look so petrified.”

They’d been able to hear the music from the garden gate; inside was downright deafening. The amount of fake cobwebs and giant spiders was rather excessive, but everyone seemed more preoccupied by the constant flow of drinks. Jim was honestly tempted to just down a can in one go, it might help.

“Jim!” And there was Joe, dressed like a typical chef. He ran over to them and put one hand on either side of Mary’s face. “What are you?” he asked her.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “An idiot sandwich?”

“Gordon Ramsey,” Jim realised. Joe winked at them, taking a gulp of his drink. 

“I saw my opportunity and I took it,” he said proudly. “Pheebs came in a cat onesie.”

“Freddie will love that,” Mary laughed. Her smile turned sly. “Speaking of Fred- is he here?”

“Not yet, no.”

Jim ignored the twinge of disappointment, and distracted himself by looking at Tim’s Woody costume. His girlfriend was Jessie. 

He couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, this just _ wasn’t _his sort of thing. If he was honest, he’d prefer to be at home, watching some cheesy Halloween films.

But..._ Freddie. _

The costumes were, for the most part, creative. Anita was Glinda The Good Witch, in a very pretty pink dress and tiara, complete with a wand. Dominique was Katniss Everdeen, with the trademark plait and mockingjay pin, and Veronica was, to Jim’s surprise, Wonder Woman. She _ did _seem a little self-conscious of the short skirt and low-cut shirt, but for the most part she held her head high, laughing and chatting with everyone else.

Finally, the _ Queen _boys arrived.

Joe burst out laughing at the sight of Brian dressed as Einstein, but Anita happily pulled him into a kiss. Roger was dressed as the stereotypical biker, but judging by the fake blood smeared on his shirt and across his neck, he was supposed to be dead. Deacy was dressed in full camouflage, with got a laugh out of Jim.

And Freddie…

Well, he should have known Freddie would go all out.

He had a tiara of tiny stars in his hair; glittering silver, white and purple paint surrounded his eyes in bold strokes and swirling patterns, covering his cheekbones and arching up his forehead; his lips were a deep plum colour. What he was wearing looked more like a dress than a shirt to Jim; it was a few sizes too large, though Jim supposed that was the point. The sheer silver fabric reached his knees, loose and billowing, so loose it bared his shoulders and nearly covered his hands. He wore tight black leggings, and silver ballet flats, a ring on every finger, and when he brushed his hair back, Jim saw he’d even gotten some diamond earrings. He assumed they were clip-on; he doubted that even Freddie would go and get his ears pierced just for a costume.

But then again, it _ was _Freddie. Who knew for sure?

“And what are you supposed to be, hm?” Joe asked with a teasing grin.

“I’m a star, darling.” Freddie returned the grin and spun on the spot, arms thrown out. He caught Jim’s eye and slowed to a stop; his smile took on a shy edge. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Shit, did his voice just crack? Judging by Freddie’s little laugh, it did. Roger only raised an eyebrow at him, that typical protective look coming to his face. And then Roger’s face contorted into a glare.

“What the fuck is _ he _doing here?”

For one gut-wrenching moment, Jim thought Roger was talking about him, but then he looked over his shoulder and realised- Paul Prenter was here. Fucking _ typical. _What was Tim thinking?

“Oh…” Freddie stepped back, edging closer to his bandmates. Even mild-mannered Brian looked ready to throw a punch.

Jim hadn’t known them during the time that Freddie dated Paul, but he’d heard the stories. He’d heard about the taunts, the intimidation, the degrading language, and then the outright _ violence. _Campus security had walked Freddie to Roger’s car for a full two weeks, Freddie had been that frightened of Paul cornering him. And from what Jim had been told, Paul had relentlessly tried to win Freddie back for weeks.

He’d only backed off when Freddie poured his ice-tea over Paul’s head in the cafeteria, in full view of everyone, and loudly announced that he would _ never _get back together with someone who hit him.

Understandably, Paul found it very hard to get a date after that.

“I’m going to wring Tim’s neck,” Roger snarled. When the host in question walked past, Roger grabbed him.

“Tim! What the _ fuck? _”

_ “Jesus, _Roggie!” Tim was clearly pretty hammered, blinking at them all blearily. “What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck is _ Prenter _doing here?” Roger demanded.

Tim immediately looked abashed. “He came with Kris,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t even realise he was here at first…” He looked quite helpless. “I can’t just kick ‘im out.”

“Sure you can,” Roger said. “I’ll do it for you.”

“I don’t want any fights, Rog.”

Jim got that, really he did, but he figured it was well worth the risk.

Roger let Tim go, but before he could do anything, Freddie took his hand.

“Don’t let him ruin our night, dear,” he said, giving Roger his best doe eyes. “We can easily avoid him, and if he does anything we can just leave. But we’re here to have _ fun, _not beat people up.”

Roger didn’t look too happy. None of them did. None of them _ were. _ But Freddie looked so damn _ stubborn, _and Jim knew him well: if they continued to argue, Freddie would just drag his feet more and more, until he refused to leave at all.

“Say the word,” Anita said. “And I’ll poke his eye out.” She raised her wand, glaring daggers at Paul’s back.

“Not worth ruining your wand over, love,” Freddie said. He turned towards the kitchen. “Let’s get shit-faced. And where the hell is Phoebe?”

  
  
  
  


_ Do it, _ Jim kept telling himself. _ Do it now. _

But the words kept getting stuck in his throat. He watched Freddie flit about like a little bird, laughing and screaming in delight. He watched Brian lift Freddie straight up and deposit him on the kitchen counter, he watched Freddie throw popcorn into Roger’s mouth, and he kept telling himself to just _ say it. _Worst case scenario, Freddie said no. No big deal. He could handle a little rejection, he had before.

Only, it was Freddie. Somehow, that made all the difference.

Because it wasn’t just that Jim wanted to shag him, he wanted to take him _ out. _ Someone like Freddie deserved the world on a silver platter. He wanted to find one of those nice sushi restaurants Freddie was always talking about trying and take him to dinner. He wanted to hold his hand on the way to class, God help him, he wanted to _ cuddle _him. He was so little, he’d fit so perfectly in Jim’s arms…

Ugh, maybe that was enough beer for now.

_ Sucker _began to play over the speakers, so loud that Jim’s head throbbed with it; Anita and Mary screamed and high-fived, rushing away to join the dancing crowd in the living room.

“Man up and do it,” Deacy hissed on his way past with Veronica. 

If only it were that easy. It _ should _have been that easy.

It wasn’t until he saw Freddie slip outside, into the back garden, that Jim took that advice to heart. Because surely it would be easier to talk outside, where the music wasn’t so loud? It would be easier without all their friends listening in.

He hoped.

So Jim followed him.

There was a bloody _ rocking chair _ by the little table, of all things, and Freddie looked utterly _ delighted _ with himself as he gently rocked back and forth. He had a slightly dopey smile on his face, courtesy of the shots he’d done, and he tilted his head back, looking at the cloudy sky. Some fireworks went off in the distance, red, green and blue, and Jim swore he saw Freddie mouth _ “Pew, pew!” _as they exploded.

He felt so stupidly _ fond _of this boy.

He wanted to make a cool entrance, to seem suave and confident like Roger, but he tripped over a flower-pot with a loud _ “FUCK!” _

It startled Freddie out of his reverie, and just like that, Freddie was _ screaming _with laughter.

“Oh, darling!” He tried to push himself out of the rocking chair and failed miserably. He collapsed back onto it, still giggling helplessly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” At least he hadn’t fallen flat on his face; he had his cane to thank for that. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Freddie’s eyes were big and concerned; he leaned forward, squinting down at Jim’s feet. “Anything broken, darling?”

“I’ll live,” Jim laughed. He leaned against the wall; truthfully, his foot _ did _hurt, but stubbing your toe was awful like that. At least he hadn’t broken the pot.

Freddie didn’t look convinced. “You should sit down,” he said, managing to haul himself to his feet. He stumbled, but made it out of the chair this time.

“Fred, I’m-”

_ “Sit.” _ His small hands were flat on Jim’s chest and before Jim could blink, Freddie shoved him onto the rocking chair. He swayed back and forth alarmingly, which wasn’t helping his drunken state; he clutched the arms of the chair riggedly, and the next thing he knew he was laughing. At what, he wasn’t sure. At Freddie’s smug grin maybe, or the fact that he was dressed as _ Gomez Addams _ of all people, in _ public, _ and for once he didn’t care. Or maybe, as _ Sucker _ reached its peak, maybe he laughed at how bloody _ accurate _that song suddenly felt.

Because Freddie _ did _ make Jim break all his typical rules. Because Jim was so completely _ gone _on him. 

And then Freddie sat on his lap and his mind short-circuited.

“Er…”

“Is this okay?” Freddie asked, peering up at him with a little pout. “I can stand up.”

“Not so sure you can,” Jim managed to tease. Automatically (and shakily) his hands rested on Freddie’s waist. “It’s fine.”

Freddie _ beamed _at him, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder.

_ Do it. Do it now. _

“Freddie.” A cold, hard voice suddenly spoke up, and Freddie tensed, pressing as close to Jim as he could. Paul Prenter stood in the doorway, clearly drunk and clearly _ mad. _

“Go away,” Freddie said. He sounded so breezy, so careless, but Jim saw him trace his wrists, where old bruises used to be.

“I need to talk to you.” Paul’s eyes narrowed on him. “Fuck off, Hutton.”

If there was one thing Jim wasn’t afraid of, it was Paul Prenter. And he meant that. He wasn’t scared of Paul, how could he be when he hated him so much? They’d never spoken before, but Jim utterly _ loathed _him, despised the idea of him, the thought of his fists bruising Freddie’s skin.

He knew he could go and try to find Roger. He knew Roger could knock Paul flat.

But no. Jim’s grip on Freddie tightened, he looked Paul right in the eye.

“No,” he said calmly. “I don’t think so.”

“Fuck off,” Paul repeated. “This is a private conversation.”

“There isn’t any conversation,” Jim said. “He told you to leave.”

“Fred.” Paul’s voice was like _ ice, _and Jim’s eyes narrowed on his clenched fists. Paul took a step closer, eyes locked on Freddie. “Come on, we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” Freddie said. His eyes darted to the door. He glanced at Jim almost pleadingly, and Jim took the hint. Gently, he let Freddie go, nudging him to his feet. For a moment, Paul looked triumphant, but his smile dropped when Jim stood, taking Freddie’s hand. 

“Oh come on,” he scoffed. “It’s been a _ year, _don’t tell me you’re still hung up on it. It was just a little fight-”

“You hit me,” Freddie said coldly. “More than once. Not to mention the emotional and mental abuse.”

“You call that _ abuse? _” Paul scoffed. “Christ, get over yourself. I just told you the truth and you didn’t want to hear it.”

Jim took a step forward, but Freddie’s grip on him tightened. Freddie took a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself.

“I’m not stupid,” he said. “I’m not weak, or needy, or helpless. I’m not a whore, _ I don’t need you. _ I don’t _ want _ you.” He stood as tall as he could, but he looked pale under all the paint. “And if you lay a hand on me, I’ll scream. _ Leave me alone. _”

“You’re an ungrateful little slut, you know that?” Paul hissed. “Who else would put up with you?”

Before he could move forward, Jim raised his cane like a sword, letting it poke Paul in the chest.

“I would,” he said. _ Oh fuck, did I just say that? I did. Oh God, I did. _ “If anything, I think he’d be putting up with me,” he added. “Because I...I don’t deserve him. And _ you _sure as fuck don’t. I don’t know anyone who does.” Freddie was staring at him, stars in his eyes and stars in his hair, glittering and beautiful, and Jim wasn’t about to stand by and listen to some creep like Paul insult him, or threaten him. “If you come near him again...Well, Rog isn’t the only one who can throw a punch.”

He was the same height as Paul, which seemed to be to his advantage, because Paul eyed him warily. Jim’s sudden shove clearly took him by surprise; he staggered backwards with a grunt, and didn’t recover in time to stop Jim from pulling Freddie back into the house.

  
  
  
  


“Did you mean that?” Freddie had to shout to be heard over the music. 

“Mean what?”

“What- what you said, I…” He was blushing, and Jim had to bite back the sudden urge to giggle. “I just…” Freddie tucked his hair behind his ears, tilting his head back to meet Jim’s gaze. “I’m a handful,” he said.

“I’ve got two hands.”

Freddie _ cackled, _but he didn’t let go of Jim’s hand.

“That was _ awful! _ ” he laughed, shoving at Jim. “That was fucking _ brutal, _Jim!”

Jim couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Yeah, well, I’m drunk.”

“Not too drunk I hope,” Freddie said. His smile was shyer, more sincere. “I like you, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh thank _ fuck, _” Jim said. “I fancy you. Like, a ridiculous fucking amount, Fred.”

Freddie stood on the tips of his toes to give Jim a quick kiss on the nose. “Wonderful,” he said. Slowly, he started to smirk. His hand was still holding Jim’s, and he tugged him out of the kitchen, towards the stairs.

“What’re-?”

“There’s free rooms upstairs,” Freddie said, giving him that smirk over his shoulder. “Okay?”

_ Fucking perfect, thank you very much. _

Thankfully he didn’t say _ that. _He nodded, red as a tomato he was sure, and let Freddie lead the way upstairs.

  
  
  
  


It was around four in the morning when their group found themselves in the living room. By now, the music was long finished; most people were snoring in various chairs and corners. From what Jim could see, Elton had fallen asleep with Bernie under the dining room table, but at least they had pillows.

Freddie was curled up in Jim’s lap, humming under his breath.

Deacy looked at them and raised an eyebrow. He had one arm around Veronica, who was sleeping soundly; her Wonder Woman tiara was missing.

“Good night?” Deacy asked mildly.

Jim nodded with a happy little smile. Freddie snickered against his neck, wriggling on his lap.

“Good for you,” Brian said, flat on his back on the floor. Anita poked him with her wand. 

“No more pining,” Deacy said, sighing gratefully. “I can have some peace.”

“Oh no, darling,” Freddie said innocently. “Now you have to listen to us talk about our relationship.”

Deacy looked perfectly horrified, but Jim couldn’t bring himself to care. _ Our relationship. _ Yup, this had been a _ wonderful _night. It may not have been the most conventional way to confess his feelings, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Your lipstick’s all over him, Fred,” Roger laughed sleepily. Freddie hummed happily in response, and Jim pulled him closer, burying his face in Freddie’s hair. 

“Sorry about that,” Freddie told him, pulling back to smile at him.

“I’m not.”

“You fucking _ sap, _Hutton,” Joe groaned, face buried in a sofa cushion.

Maybe so. Just one more thing Freddie changed about him. 

Mary poked her head around the living room door. “There’s free beds upstairs,” she hissed gleefully, gesturing frantically for them all to get up. “Quick, _ quick. _”

Veronica clearly wasn’t happy at being woken up, but she seemed much happier when Deacy offered her a piggy-back ride. They found two empty rooms upstairs, and they split up, crowding in together.

Thankfully, they _ weren’t _in the room that Jim and Freddie had used earlier. 

Freddie immediately curled up against Jim’s chest, nodding off.

“Break his heart and I break your neck,” Roger yawned. “You know the drill. I’ll threaten you tomorrow.”

“That’s fair.”

“Oh, stop it, Roggie,” Freddie said. Eyes still closed, he reached out to weakly swat at Roger’s arm.

In contrast, Brian gave him a clumsy salute. “Happy Halloween, lads.”

**Author's Note:**

> These cheesy little bastards will be the death of me, I swear.


End file.
